so lets up and leave the weeping to the willow tree
by br0kenarr0w
Summary: Oliver didn't understand. He'd suffered losses. Felicity had suffered losses. And they'd always bounced back almost immediately. But this time, it feels different


The bed's empty when Oliver wakes up.

Of course it is. He's not sure why he's surprised.

He can hear Robert and Katrina in the kitchen; Rob's talking to his younger sister in a hushed voice. Over the past months, Rob has become something of a father figure to Kat, after it seemed that Oliver became incapable of the role.  
Oliver is grateful, but the consequence of his son resenting both him and Felicity cancels that out.

Movement, more hushed voices, then the sound of a front door opening and closing. Looks like Rob's taking Katrina and himself to school again. And no doubt Thea and Roy would pick them up and take them to their place where they'd eat, before being dropped off during the night.

The routine.

Oliver doesn't understand. He has suffered losses. Felicity has suffered losses. And they've always bounced back almost immediately.

But this time, it feels different. Barely two words have passed between the couple. She won't eat unless she saw him eating. Which is why most nights he orders take-outs and made sure to sit in front of her when the food arrives.

And he misses her touch. She won't come near him, won't curl up to him on the sofa if she's cold, made a decision several weeks ago to not even lie in bed with him.

He isn't sure what hurts him more; that she doesn't want to be _with _him, or that she won't confide in him.

There's an ache in his chest when he passes the spare room - Felicity had been sleeping there ever since it'd happened. He can't even say the words out loud. Not yet. The word 'miscarriage' can't seem to find a way out.

He works, sometimes. Although he was told he could take as long as he and Felicity needed away. It's just when he feels like staying indoors will drive him insane or he needs a distraction, something, _anything_, he works.

But working somehow makes it worse. Because he can hear them, outside the office, talking in hushed, sympathetic voices and probably assuming he can't hear them.

_"Did you hear about Oliver Queen and his wife? She had a miscarriage, apparently. While they were finishing the baby's room as well..."_

(It's usually at this point he storms out and tells them not to discuss his and his wife's personal life,_ thank you very much._)

But it hurts. Every waking hour, it hurts. Because it's nearly all he can think about. Always hearing Felicity's shriek of pain, always seeing the blood...so much blood...

Oliver blinks. The coffee's done. He hears Felicity cough in the spare bedroom. She's awake.

He can't help but notice her appearance as soon as he walks through the door. She's lost a lot of weight, the bags under her eyes look like bruises and she looks so _small _and _lost_.  
Not for the first time, Oliver's heart shatters.

She takes the mug wordlessly, her wedding band clinking against it. They don't speak, only look. Her tired blue eyes scan him over briefly, and she just looks at him, her eyes simply saying, _I'm sorry._

And he frowns and shakes his head, covering her hand with his own. _Not your fault._

The week is a fairly odd one, to say the least. But it's a kind week. One that they haven't had in a while.

In the kitchen, Felicity makes breakfast for Robert and Katrina for the first time in months. And she hums along to the radio, freshly-washed hair bouncing ever so slightly. It makes Katrina giggle. Robert observes her with a sort of content curiosity, but he smiles.

Oliver helps her clean, too. She makes a fuss about the state of Robert's room _("Mom, I'll clean it later." "That's what you said a year ago."_) and the tone of her voice sounds so much like the old Felicity that Oliver wants to cry with joy.

His wife doesn't stop all week, and she eats, and she smiles a little more, and the light that had gone out in her eyes when the baby died isn't quite back yet, but it'll come, in time.

He's surprised when she follows him to bed the first night.

He's not surprised at how tight they hold each-other in the nights that follow.

His face is in her hair and she's burrowed in his chest, humming lowly.

She stops, and tilts her head up. "Thank you."

He understands, presses a kiss to her nose. "I love you."

She smiles and mouths the words back to him, and he plays with her hair for a few minutes longer as her eyelids start to droop.


End file.
